A Little Miracle
by mum-to-you
Summary: Molly and Percy share a special bond, and there will never be anything he can do to make her stop loving him. It has something to do with his birth.


A Little Miracle

Molly Weasley opened her eyes and blinked against the glare of white. She ran her tongue over her dry lips and grimaced at the rusty, metallic taste in her mouth. She was disoriented. This wasn't her bed, wasn't her house.

She took a deep breath to clear her mind. Looking around, she was relieved to see something familiar. Arthur was sitting next to the bed, asleep, with his head resting near her hip, his arm protectively over her. Then she remembered. The baby. Something had gone terribly wrong. She saw again in her mind Arthur's look of terror as he had looked back and forth from her to the Healer, helpless, not knowing what to do. Then everything had gone black.

Her hand jerked up to her mouth as she remembered, and the sudden movement woke her husband. "Molly," he whispered with a sigh, "you're awake."

The panicked look hadn't left his eyes, and Merlin knew how long it had been. "Arthur, the baby . . . what hap—" Arthur looked down and closed his eyes.

"No. Oh, no. Not the baby," she stammered weakly. "He didn't—"

Arthur shook his head sadly, "No. He's still alive. For now, love, but—" He paused, choking, and Molly saw tears form in his eyes. "It just doesn't look good."

Molly eyes flashed. "Why aren't you with him? Why did you leave him alone?"

Arthur sighed again and rubbed his face with his hands. "I've been back and forth all night, Molly. Merlin, love, I almost lost you, too." The tears that had been threatening spilled down his face, and he fell silent.

Molly put her hand up to his face, wiping away the tears gently with her thumb. Tonight, he looked much older than his twenty-four years, with all the burden and worry of a father of three on his shoulders and in his face. "You did what you had to do, love. You always do." With a determined voice, she continued, "Take me to him."

"Molly!" he exclaimed, as she threw the bedclothes aside and started to sit up. "No, Molly, you're too weak. You can't walk down to the nursery."

"That's why I need you to help me, Arthur. Help me," she pleaded. Arthur just shook his head in answer, and she looked him in the eye. "Arthur Weasley, I will not allow my son to die alone. I couldn't bear that. Please take me to him." Her hand clutched tightly on his arm, and he knew that if she had to crawl down the corridor on her hands and knees, she would find a way to get that baby.

Gently, he helped her stand and let her lean on him heavily as they walked together slowly down to the nursery. At the door, he paused and turned to her. "Molly," he said seriously, "You need to be prepared for this. I've never seen a baby this tiny. And there are tubes and things attached, to help him breathe." Molly blanched, and he could see her steeling herself.

He led her into the nursery and over to the tiny bassinet in the far corner. Molly gasped at the tiny baby with bare fringes of red hair, at all the tubes and needles sticking in him at odd angles. She closed her eyes and made herself remember that those awful things were keeping him alive. With a choked sob, she reached out and stroked his soft back. Even her tiny hand nearly covered it.

"You've named him?" she asked.

Arthur nodded, "Percy. I hope that's all right. We talked about naming him after an uncle, but hadn't decided which one. We can change it if—"

Molly shook her head, "Percy is good. Wouldn't do to name him after Lance, would it?"

Arthur's face grew stern as he shook his head. "No. That wouldn't do at all," he agreed.

"Not Percival, though?" she asked, puzzled.

"No," he answered, shaking his head, "he always hated that name. Can't imagine what Mother was thinking. Anyway, with two big brothers, this one will need all the individuality he can get, I suspect."

"Middle name?"

"Ignatius, after the saint in the legend who was held in God's arms as an infant," Arthur said with a sob. He put an arm around Molly to help him regain his composure, then aded, "I figured it couldn't hurt."

Molly closed her eyes and swayed slightly. Alarmed, Arthur hurried across the room with a rocking chair and eased her into it. Then she surprised him by saying, "Hand Percy to me, Arthur. I want to hold him. He needs to be held."

"The Healers said—"

"I don't give a good goddamn what they said, Arthur. Babies need to be held."

Arthur gave her a wry smile, looked at the struggling infant, and decided that it most likely didn't matter anyway. He picked up the tiny bundle, attachments and all. He was grateful for once that the hospital didn't use Muggle equipment that would have to be plugged into the wall.

Percy was like a child's doll, and Arthur could almost support him in one hand. He held his son close and kissed him on top of the head as he handed the boy to his mother. Molly held Percy to her tightly, keeping eye contact, stroking him, crooning to him. Arthur could tell she wasn't willing to let him go without a fight, and with the long night of despair and fear behind him, he was beginning to think that neither would he.

It went like that for two days. Molly and Arthur never left Percy alone, taking turns holding him constantly, talking to him, kissing him. After the first day, the Healers saw the wisdom of moving them both to her room. Eventually, the breathing tubes were removed, but he was still too weak to nurse on his own and was losing weight.

On the third morning, Molly had insisted that Arthur go home and rest and spend time with Billy and Charlie. He had done it reluctantly and had promised to return soon. Alone in the room, Molly rocked Percy back and forth, singing a little lullaby her own mother had sung to her and her brothers. She was smiling down into his little face when she noticed his eyes turn dull and lifeless. She swallowed hard and whispered fiercely, "Don't give up, Percy! Don't you dare leave us after all the work you've done! I won't have it, do you hear me?"

She grew very still and quiet, and with all her might and concentration, Molly poured her strength and life into his little body, willing him to live. It wasn't until Arthur shook her arm with a petrified expression that she realized how long and how deeply entranced she had been. She looked down at Percy, who was looking back at her with alert blue eyes, and she smiled back weakly.

"Molly, what the hell just happened? What did you do?" Arthur asked, concerned. "I thought you were—" He shook his head against the thought.

She just smiled up at him, exhausted, and replied, "I did what I had to, love." Then she nuzzled Percy with her face and let out a little shriek.

"Arthur, he's sucking on my nose! Merlin, he's bloody sucking on my nose!"

With a soft laugh, she lifted up her jumper, and finally, Percy began to nurse greedily.

They took him home four days later. He was still very small, but perfectly healthy and growing stronger every day. That first night at home, as Molly drew the covers over him in his cradle, she knew something very magical had happened between them. This baby was a miracle, and she couldn't help but feel something different about him. Not that she loved him more—of course not—but this was something, something that went beyond words.

"You _are_ my little miracle, Percy. Never forget that." Fresh tears trickled down her cheek, and she reached out to stroke his back the way she had done when she had first seen him. "There is nothing you can ever do that will make me stop loving you. You hang on to that determination, Percy, and I believe with all my heart that you will achieve great things and grow up to be good man like your father. Just don't ever give up when life knocks you down, and remember that I will always, always, love you."


End file.
